Page 17 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Chapter 5

Noelle went into the beautiful, new stables Mr. Towne had built with his smuggling gains to fetch Snowflake, undecided whether to wait for Richard or simply leave and let him pursue her if he wished.

But it wasn’t really a decision. She wouldn’t leave, because she needed his help. And also, loath as she was to admit it, she didn’t really want him to look the fool, nor did she want to be considered a jade, although she knew full well she’d risked it lately. Not that he didn’t deserve it for making her kiss him in front of all those people.

She longed for those heady days in Paris at the beginning of the Revolution, when it seemed that equality for all might mean equality for women as well. Her mother’s salon had attracted France’s most brilliant thinkers . . . But then everything had gone awry. Her father had gone to the guillotine, her mother had contracted a wasting sickness, and with death looming had sent the heartbroken Noelle to live with Lucretia and Uncle Matthew.

Where, a few months later, she’d met and fallen in love with Richard. Utter folly, but she’d been particularly vulnerable at the time, homesick and grieving, for the news of her mother’s passing had reached her not long after her arrival in Sussex.

She found old Ned dozing on a bench blocking the door of Snowflake’s stall.

Traitor. Old Ned was as slavishly obedient to Richard as the rest of them. She poked him gently with her boot. “Wake up. Lord Boltwood wants the horses brought around.”

Ned got up slowly, stretching his old bones, leaving the bench where it was and heading for Charger first. How horridly obvious of him. It enraged her that Richard didn’t trust her to wait for him. That, in turn, was absurd, as she certainly didn’t trust herself.

She took hold of the bench and dragged it away from Snowflake’s stall.

Ned left Charger to hurry over. “Now, now, Miss Noelle, you leave that bench to me. Lord Boltwood’s not out yet, so there’s no hurry.”

“I’m cold and tired and want to go home,” Noelle said. “Lord Boltwood will be here soon.”

Ned muttered and moved the bench away from the stall to set it against the wall where it belonged. As he led Snowflake out, he detected an imaginary hesitation in her step. “Do you know, miss, I believe she has a stone in her shoe.”

“She has no such thing. I’m not a simpleton, Ned. I know Lord Boltwood wants you to prevent me from leaving on my own.”

“He says I am to follow you if you do, miss.”

“I wouldn’t dream of putting you to such inconvenience. I’m sure you’re longing for your bed.” She sat on the bench, smoldering at Richard’s high-handed behavior. On the other hand, if he wanted to control her every move, why had he given her the little leather bag, which she had found to contain powder and shot?

Why, she wondered again, was he insisting on marrying her? He didn’t love her. She didn’t even understand why he was so determined to protect her. She meant nothing to him . . .

Ah. Maybe he just wanted to bed her again. That made perfect sense. It was a relief to have that settled in her mind. She wouldn’t succumb to him, no matter what.

She pulled the pistol out of the pocket of her cloak. “If Lord Boltwood delays too long, I shall be well-armed and able to take care of myself.”

Ned stiffened with disapproval. “I don’t hold with women handling guns.” He peered at the flintlock in the light cast by the lantern near the stable door. “Whatever will Lord Boltwood say?”

Noelle stifled a snarl. “Since he gave me this powder and shot, I assume he approves.” She opened the bag while Ned watched and muttered.

Perhaps the gunpowder and shot were yet another form of control, Richard’s way of occupying her while she waited, of saving her face and his as well. Which was so clever and considerate of him that resentment flared inside her—because he really wasn’t considerate at all She took her time loading the pistol and had just snapped the frizzen into place over the pan when Richard strode into the stable.

“Not done yet? You’ll have to learn to load it more quickly, my love.”

She clamped her lips shut on a retort. Something percolated up from the buried memories of their first days together, when that comment would have made her laugh. Now it merely stoked the fire of resentment.

Laughter had been better.

Instead of letting her use the mounting block, Richard lifted her onto Snowflake’s back, his strong hands lingering possessively at her waist before he let go.

A shiver of desire rippled through her. She suppressed it with something close to panic. She must not give in to his seductive power. She would not let him distract her from what really mattered—escape before she was arrested as a spy.

She set off through the woods without waiting for him, hugging the edge of the path with her stirrup side. At least she’d be able to look away from him without slewing her head around.

The minute he caught up, she let fly the cork on her bottled-up rage.

“Your behavior before that crowd of people was disgusting and shameful.” He didn’t respond, so she went on, more enraged than ever. “The only reason you’re helping me is in the hope of satisfying your lust. You wouldn’t recognize love if it kicked you in the cul. As far as I’m concerned, you can take your lust and shove it into the same orifice.”

“Yours or mine?”